


Miscommunicated Excitement

by Of_Nyon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Other, Parental Panic, Pre Mutiny, Transformer Sparklings, Transformers Spark bond, by gays for gays, more TBA - Freeform, she/her Cyclonus, they/them Tailgate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Nyon/pseuds/Of_Nyon
Summary: Tailgate is sparked, and is excited about the news! When they go tell Cyclonus, however, the lackluster response makes them panic. If only they knew how excited Cyclonus really was.





	1. Appointment

**Author's Note:**

> HEY, this is just a silly idea that popped into my head about cygate having a baby haha
> 
> essentially it was just thinking about cyclonus _adoring_ sparklings but also being really bad at expressing herself before the sparkling was even born
> 
> IDK MAN i just wanted to write some cygate haha
> 
> ALSO!!!!! cyclonus uses she/her pronouns, and tailgate uses they/them 0: that’s just how i personally headcanon their preferences
> 
> as always, un-beta’d, and coming from a non-english native so!! pls spare any grammar/ spelling mistakes u catch 0’:

Tailgate often wondered what Cyclonus thought about whenever she stared out of their habsuite’s window. She was always so deep in thought that, even though she responded to outside stimuli, it took a lot of effort to _keep_ her attention. It didn’t help that she was impossible to read, so at any given moment Cyclonus could be angry or pleasantly relaxed. It was always a mystery, but Tailgate grew to not mind it as much. They figured if she needed her space, best to give it to her. That, and feeding her energon treats was always funny when she’d start chewing without realizing.

Until, of course, Tailgate went to Ratchet for their regular check up.

“Everything seems to be in check.” Ratchet mumbled, reviewing all of their vitals displayed on his updated datapad carefully. Because Tailgate was an older model, he took extra time making sure everything was functional.

But Tailgate wasn’t entirely satisfied. “ _…Seems?_ Is there something wrong with me?” The thought of another chronic illness made their anxiety spike, their visor already watering. “Oh, please tell me if it’s not something like cybercrosis again! If it is, just tell me now!”

“Calm down!” Ratchet snapped, giving them an irritated look. “You aren’t showing up as positive for any illnesses.”

“Oh thank Primus,” they sighed in relief, irking Ratchet a little more, but for a different reason. They ignored his irritation and he huffed, ignoring them in return and going back to analyzing their vitals.

He hummed when he read something… unexpected. Tailgate caught the noise, but let go of their anxiety when Ratchet’s look wasn’t grim. “That’s really interesting,” he mumbled again, intrigued by the results. He turned the datapad towards Tailgate, who didn’t bother reading it because it was all med-speech, and said with a gentleness Tailgate didn’t know he was capable of, “Congratulations, you’re carrying.”

The gears were struggling in Tailgate’s helm. _Carrying…?_ They knew it was a possibility, but they never expected to _carry,_ especially while on the Lost Light. It was a surprise, but it definitely wasn’t unpleasant.

When Tailgate didn’t respond, Ratchet worried a little. “…Is this not something you want? Medically, you can take any procedures to t-”

“O-oh, no no! It’s alright! I’m okay with this, really!” Tailgate quickly interrupted, finding the thought of even _mentioning_ medical termination repugnant. “I’m… surprised, ‘s all.”

“Hm.” Ratchet took a mental note of the way he was interrupted, nodding at their response. “Do you know who the sire is?”

Tailgate looked at him as if he was oblivious. How just their visor could convey so much emotion still unnerved Ratchet. “Is it not… obvious?”

“It is,” Ratchet said, smirking as he looked at the datapad again. “Trust me, _I_ know who it is. I just wanted to make sure _you_ were aware of that, too.”

Tailgate looked down at their servos and felt their anxiety rise again. The more they thought about it… they weren’t sure if she’d be okay with this. “We’ve never talked about… sparklings before,” they said. “She’s never mentioned it either, and I’ve never even _thought_ about it.”

Ratchet only put a servo onto their shoulder. “I can’t tell you anything out of confidentiality, but _talk_ to her. She’ll want to know about this. Trust me.” He squeezed gently before pulling back. “Do you have any medical questions about the sparklings?”

Tailgate took a deep vent and thought hard. “Me being… an old model won’t cause any problems?”

Ratchet shook his head. “You’re completely healthy. Your frame will accomodate for the sparklings.”

“Okay. Uh, how about Cyclonus and her time in the Dead Universe? Will that… do anything?”

This time, Ratchet furrowed his eyebrows. “That, I can’t say for sure. There’s never been a recorded case of someone surviving the Dead Universe and having sparklings.” He hummed, and smiled a little. “You two could be the first to have sparklings in this situation. And _healthy_ ones.”

That interested Tailgate, but not by a whole lot. “What about…” They thought about their words but didn’t really know what they were trying to ask. “I dunno, doc, any tips on what I should know about carrying?”

“Well, some things to expect,” Ratchet started, placing down his current datapad in order to pick up another one. “Nausea, fatigue, discomfort around your chassis and in your spark.” He handed the datapad to Tailgate, which had all the information he was going over on it. It was mostly so they could reference it later in case they forgot anything. “It’s common for various sparklings to develop, though the most to actually survive ever recorded exceeded ten. I wouldn’t expect more than 5, but I’ll be on the lookout to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” Tailgate responded, nodding their head as they processed the information. “How long will this last?”

“Good question. It’s different for everybody, and size _can_ be a factor, but because we haven’t had very many sparklings in four million years, I can’t really give you a specific date. Before the war, the average was a couple months, maybe 5 at most. Then you’d need an incubator for another 3, maybe 5 months, for the sparklings to fully develop outside of your chamber.”

Tailgate nodded again, their mind wandering to Cyclonus and her reaction. “And… if she doesn’t want the sparklings…?”

Ratchet’s shoulders slumped a little. “That’s not for her to decide. They may be hers as well, but in the end _you’re_ the one carrying, and you get to decide. But, seriously, talk to her. This is important.”

“Yeah, okay yeah, I will.” Ratchet noted they were clearly very nervous about this. “This is important, and she has every right to know. I _want_ to decide with her too.”

“Then that’s it for your check up.” Ratchet said, hoping to lighten the mood, even if by a little. “I’ll be monitoring your health, of course, so we’ll need to make these checkups more regular. Would twice a month be alright with you?”

“Of course.” They rubbed their thumbs against the datapad they held. “Thank you, Ratchet. This was… a lot.”

“No problem, kid.” He helped them down the medical berth (being a minibot wasn’t convenient in the medical field) and walked them to the door. “Don’t stress yourself out over this. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” they said, now thinking about how they’d break the news to Cyclonus. “See you later.”


	2. Habsuite News

Cyclonus stood by the window when Tailgate entered their habsuite. They didn’t expect her to be elsewhere, but they made sure to send her a comm beforehand about wanting to talk face to face anyway. They didn’t want to tell her over the comm; that felt too disrespectful.

“Cyclonus?” Tailgate called out, anxiously approaching the taller mech and still carrying the datapad Ratchet had given them in their servos.

For once, Cyclonus was actually paying attention to her surroundings. They should start calling her more often before they planned anything. She turned at the sound of her partner’s shy voice, her stoic face softening when they locked eyes. “Yes? You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” Tailgate fiddled with the datapad, wondering if giving her the datapad would save them from breaking the news. _She doesn’t deserve that, though,_ they thought, and took a deep vent.

“I had my checkup with Ratchet,” they started, turning the datapad on in case they needed the information. “He said I was fine for the most part.”

Their choice of words didn’t sit well with Cyclonus. “Did… something come up?” she asked, letting her arms drop to her sides. That was her way of showing concern, something Tailgate had taken months to catch, but now noticed her doing it all the time.

Tailgate shook their head vigorously and offered the datapad. “No no! It’s not what you’re thinking about.”

“Ah.” The purple mech visibly, yet subtly, relaxed her shoulders. “Then it is relieving to know you don’t have another chronic illness.”

“You can say _that_ again.” Tailgate said, recalling the near anxiety attack they’d experienced when Ratchet had been vague earlier. “Um, you remember when we merged sparks?”

“…Yes?” Cyclonus struggled to see why it mattered. “It was not that long ago.” It had just dawned on her that she didn’t take the datapad in Tailgate’s servos, so she took it. It turned on automatically, but she kept her attention on the minibot.

“Well, I told Ratchet just so he was fully informed.” They twiddled their thumbs now that the datapad didn’t occupy their servos, trying to find the right words to say what they wanted to say. i the end, they decided that as long as they were genuine, it would be alright. “He checked if I was carrying and… well, congrats, Cy! You’re a sire!”

The datapad’s first notes from Ratchet were for carrying a spark, which immediately caught Cyclonus’s attention. “…Really?”

“Yeah! According to the notes, I’m still really early.” Tailgate pointed towards the datapad, to which Cyclonus started reading them.

“You’re safe to carry?” She asked, and Tailgate beamed.

“Yup! We talked about it, and he’ll be monitoring me anyway so if something _does_ come up, we’ll be first to know.”

Cyclonus kept scrolling through the datapad, skimming through most of it as she wasn’t the one carrying, but still wanting to understand what Tailgate’s experience will be like.

When she didn’t respond or ask another question, Tailgate began to worry a little. “…Uh… are you… okay, Cyclonus?”

Cyclonus nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh, okay! Uh, yeah, I guess I’ll have to take it easy from now on.” They laughed awkwardly and started fiddling with their thumbs again, this time out of nervousness.

“You are now responsible for another life; it wouldn’t be wise to overexert yourself.” She turned off the datapad and handed it back to Tailgate. She figured they would need it to reference it later. “You will have to watch what you eat. No more engex.”

“R-right. If you don’t mind, I’ll be at Swerve’s.” Cyclonus squinted, and Tailgate flinched as they internally cursed themself for not catching their words beforehand. They quickly raised their servos up in defense. “Not to drink! Everyone is always there so… just wanted to hang out with the others.”

Cyclonus kept squinting as she turned around to face the window again. Tailgate assumed that meant she was annoyed. “Uh. Do you… wanna come?” They asked anyway.

“No. I will stay here.” She crossed her arms. “I have… a lot of thinking to do.”

“Okay! If you… wanna come, you can! Uhh, see you later!” When they didn’t get a response back, Tailgate hurriedly stuffed the datapad into their subspace and walked out of their room, unsure how to feel about the disappointing responses.


	3. Not a Bar Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tailgate needs to tell somebody, and eventually they’ll need to tell everybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-beta’d, and it’s almost 3:30am so pls excuse any spelling/ grammar mistakes 0”:

Simply turning the corner, Tailgate could already hear the commotion that was coming from _Swerve’s_ from down the hall. When they opened the doors, the noise erupted, chaos everywhere, but still typical for the Lost Light.

They spotted Whirl talking to a nearly unconscious Trailcutter, Chromedome and Rewind hanging out with Brainstorm at a table, another giant group of regulars surrounding a table off to the corner. Swerve was left alone at the booth, which Tailgate approached and sat at.

“Hey Tailgate!” Swerve instantly greeted, putting down the glass he’d been cleaning, his energy right at place in his bar. “Can I getcha anything?”

“Regular energon is fine, please.” Tailgate requested, and Swerve pursed his lips into a fine line.

“No engex? Really? At a _bar?”_

If Tailgate didn’t have a visor, they would’ve rolled their optics. “Yes, Swerve. No engex.”

Swerve slowly reached for a regular energon cube and frowned. “…Are you suuure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Swerve. No engex, please.” Tailgate glanced around the bar briefly and sighed. “I have… something going on and I can’t have engex.”

“Oh?” Swerve didn’t need to squat in order to reach the regular energon beneath the counter. Clearly, Tailgate’s unfinished thought intrigued the bar owner. “And what would that be? A secret? A top secret?” He gasped gently. “A classified top secret?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.” Tailgate responded matter-of-factly. Quickly losing their confidence, they looked down at their servos. “Plus, it’s… kinda private.”

“That’s code for ‘Swerve stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.’” He handed the cube of energon to Tailgate. They didn’t entirely trust that Swerve hadn’t put any engex in their energon, and decided to simply stare at their cube as they swished the liquid around.

“Yeah, it is.” They responded, and watched in delight as Swerve’s face twisted.

“Hm.”

“Anyway, thanks for the energon.” They tilted their cube towards Swerve, who nodded, understanding that the conversation was over. “I’m gonna go keep _Nutjob_ from starting a bar fight.”

“Oh good!” Swerve exclaimed, purposefully avoiding looking at the corner Tailgate was already headed towards. “I won’t have to send Ten after him then. Good luck! Don’t get punched!”

Tailgate huffed softly. “Gee, thanks.” They mumbled to themself sarcastically.

As they walked towards the corner of the bar, Tailgate quickly noted all the spilled energon—which was most likely engex considering who was nearby—and instinctively held onto their own cube tighter. They knew how touchy Whirl and Trailcutter tend to get when both were drunk out of their minds. It didn’t mean they were _used_ to being jostled around, but preparing for it helped anyway.

Upon stepping over the spilled engex, Tailgate realized Trailcutter was… _snoring._ He rarely ever passed out from drinking so much, though it was probably for the best at this point.

Whirl loomed over his unconscious frame, sloppily but successfully piling up all the empty cups and cubes he could get his claws on. It fascinated Tailgate how careful Whirl was being despite how drunk he was.

Whirl leaned too far to the right and couldn’t keep his balance over Trailcutter, making him tip over the table. Tailgate giggled and decided to step in. “C’mon, Whirl. He’s unconscious; let him rest.”

“That’s why,” Whirl slurred, catching himself before he fell on top of his tower of cubes. “I have to make it as tall as possible.”

Tailgate never knew how Whirl would react every time he drank. They were thankful he was in a playful mood. “Why?”

“A bet.”

“Ah.” That didn’t really explain anything.

“Also, he owes me money.”

That explained things a little better. For Whirl. “Which he won’t be able to pay until he’s awake.”

“Yep.”

“So you’re doing _this_ to pass time?”

“Yuh huh.”

Tailgate slowly nodded their head, feeling incredibly awkward at how… _mellow_ Whirl was being. This wasn’t exactly a usual sight, and Tailgate wasn’t really sure what to do. They decided to sit across where Trailcutter lay, hoping not to shake the table too much and drop all the cups on him.

“By the way,” Whirl said, grabbing another cube and contemplating which pile he should put it on. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Tailgate almost scoffed. “I can’t just hang out here?”

“Not without Cyclonus, no.” He decided on making a new pile altogether, and counted all the remaining cups he had.

“Hm.” They had to admit, they rarely ever came to Swerve’s without Cyclonus. They felt much more comfortable with her company around, but it wasn’t like they _only_ came when she also came! They decided not to voice that, and focused on their original goal. “Well, I… have some news for you. I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh!” Whirl pulled away from his new pile. He knew his excitement would make it tip and fall. “Did Brainstorm finally finish that gun I asked him for?!”

Tailgate was taken aback in sheer confusion. “Wha- why would _I_ bring _you_ that information? Wouldn’t he just come looking for you instead?” This drunk-Whirl was really weird. Then again, this was an actual sober-Whirl response. They recovered quickly only because they remembered not to spill their own energon.

“Don’t be a smartass with me, panic legs.” His attention returned to the piles in front of him. “If it’s not about my new gun, what could actually get me excited?”

That made Tailgate a little more nervous than they expected. “It’s about… me and Cyclonus.”

Whirl hummed, and Tailgate could practically hear the smirk he couldn’t create with his single optic. “Did you two finally do the ritus?”

 _That_ really surprised Tailgate. “Whirl!”

“What?” He shrugged defensively, reaching for his second to last cup. “It’s been a long time coming! When will you give the audience what they want!”

“What audience? What are you talking about?”

“Ah, forget it. But hurry up; we’re gonna find the Knights of Cybertron, go back and recreate The Golden Age, and you two will be pining for the next ten thousand years.”

“Wh-whatever. Anyway, can I tell you what I wanted to tell you?”

The new tower wobbled and Whirl froze, watching it sway gently. When it didn’t tip over, he pulled away and collected himself. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Tailgate turned the cube in their servos a couple of times, feeling more nervous to break the news to Whirl then they had felt to Cyclonus. They took in a deep vent and looked right at Whirl.

“I’m sparked.”

The last cube Whirl had been holding between his claws slipped, falling directly into his tallest tower of empty engex cups. It caused a chain reaction as it fell onto the other piles, and soon enough all the cups littered the table and floor. Whirl cycled his optic and turned to look at Tailgate. “…Huh?”

Despite everything, Tailgate assumed Whirl hadn’t heard correctly and said, “I’m carrying. Cyclonus already knows. Besides Ratchet, she was the first to know.”

“…Huh?”

Now they were _sure_ Whirl had heard what they said, and suddenly felt the same anxiety they’d felt after they told their significant other. “This is… uh… _really_ new to me, and I don’t want to disappoint Cyclonus. Also, I don’t wanna cause the sparklings any harm, but I can’t even feel them yet so… yeah.”

“…Huh?”

“Uh…” They didn’t realize how far down their helm had gotten into their chassis until Whirl slumped his shoulders and let himself fall onto his seat. Trailcutter snorted loudly, but otherwise didn’t react. Tailgate simply continued fidgeting, waiting for _any_ response.

“Wow,” Whirl finally breathed out. “I didn’t expect that at all.” He tilted his head down onto Tailgate’s chassis. “You can carry?”

“Yeah, actually,” they chuckled, feeling a little less nervous with Whirl’s question. Maybe he’d be too curious to react… physically? Tailgate did _not_ want to deal with unwanted touches. “I was surprised too.”

“Oh!” Whirl sat upright as a thought came to mind. “Are you gonna pop out ten little demons and let them wreck havoc on the Lost Light?” He tapped his claws together in excitement, already conceiving a plan. “I’ll be there with Rewind to record everything.”

Actually, Tailgate didn’t like this curious drunk-Whirl and his weird questions. “Primus why did I decide to tell you?”

Whirl only laughed. “‘Cause you loooove me!”

“Uh huh… Well, I thought it was important for you to know. I’ll tell everyone eventually.” They glanced over the bar, beginning a mental list of who he would tell first. It would take forever, and they were already dreading having to repeat themself.

“Oh, don’t bother. Just tell Swerve, and he’ll do it for you.”

Tailgate paused their list-making and looked back at Whirl. “…You know, I think that would be better. I don’t really have the energy to tell everyone.”

“That’s the spirit! Swerve is perfect to get the news everywhere.”

Tailgate smiled, remembering the time Swerve told the entire crew about Ultra Magnus _smiling._ “Yeah.”

Tailgate put their drink down on the table and studied the empty cups surrounding them. Their mind wandered, and Whirl, despite his groggy and drunken state, picked up their EM field.

“…Hey,” he said cautiously, cycling his optic so he could focus on Tailgate.

“Yeah?”

“How did… how did Cyclonus react?”

At the mention of her name, Tailgate slumped in their seat. “Oh.”

Whirl flinched. “Uh oh. Don’t like that tone.”

“Well… I don’t know how she reacted. She…” They waved their servo in the air, looking for the right word. “…didn’t?”

“Hm. Her usual glaring?” Whirl did his best to imitate Cyclonus. The joke went right over Tailgate’s head.

“Yeah, except it was so intense. Not _angry_ intense just… thoughtful.” They looked down at their servos, now resting on the edge of the table, and sighed. “It made me nervous.”

“Do you think she’s… you know…”

“Oh Gods, I really hope not.” The mere thought of Cyclonus being against the sparking made them panic, and tears instantly welled up in their optics. “I-I can’t bring myself to ter-ter-ter…”

“It’s okay.”

Tailgate cycled their optics and rubbed the tears from their face. “…Huh?”

“I won’t let anything happen to your sparklings.”

“What?” Apparently, drunk-Whirl had decided today was Surprise Tailgate Day. “Really?”

“Anything, and from _anyone._ I’ve got your back, ‘kay?” He leaned in, gently rocking Trailcutter with the table.

Tailgate watched as Trailcutter didn’t even snort like last time. These surprises were tiring, and they doubted it was because of the sparking already a toll on them. “…Okay.”

“Also—” Whirl pointed at the cube Tailgate had set down. “—lemme have a swig at your drink.”

“Huh?”

“To see if Swerve gave you engex.”

“Oh. Alright, here.” They pushed the cube towards Whirl, who didn’t need it and plucked the drink as soon as Tailgate had let go of it. A port somewhere on his helm activated, and he let the liquid fall into his helm.

He put the cube down with a little more force than he meant to and really tasted the energon. “Hm. Don’t drink it.”

 _Engex,_ Tailgate reasoned. “Thanks, Whirl.”

“I mean it.” Whirl slurred, and it took Tailgate a moment to realize what he meant. “Those demon sparklings of yours are gonna need to be protected. I’m not sayin’ Cyclonus won’t be able to, but I am saying that I’m probably more capable.”

Tailgate giggled, knowing full well Cyclonus would be enough. They got up from their seat and grabbed their cube, heading towards Swerve again. “Okay, Whirl. I’ll see you around; I gotta tell Swerve.”

“Tell me when you feel ‘em kicking!” Whirl called out, waving an empty cube he’d just picked up. “I’ll kick back!”

Thankfully, everyone was too engrossed in their conversations or being drunk, or both, to hear what Whirl said. Still, it was a weird thing to say. “N-no Whirl, don’t do that,” they mumbled, and walked back to the booth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i headcanon whirl to be pretty protective of tg, and more now that he knows they’re sparked :”)


End file.
